My Bride and Mother’s Day

Sunday, May 14, AD 2017

Cathy-in-the-1980s-234x300

Her children rose up, and called her blessed: her husband, and he praised her.

Proverbs 31:28

My mother loved my bride from their first meeting.  They enjoyed shopping together, and my bride was the daughter she never had. My mother died on Easter Sunday 1984.  She never saw, in this life, her grandchildren.  My bride and I were married for eight years before our twin boys appeared.  We were afraid we were never going to have children.  When they were born, I was 34 and my bride was 33.  After we brought the boys home, my initial thought was:  “What’s next”?  After being married for such a long time as a childless couple, I was concerned that perhaps parenthood would prove a challenge we were ill-prepared to meet.  Fortunately my bride, from the outset, proved herself a superb mother.

Changing endless diapers and making endless bottles of formula she did like a pro, as if her entire life had been preparation for these tasks.  When the toddler stage entered, she was constantly on the go, chasing after two inquisitive little boys who could cover a great deal of distance in a small amount of time.  I helped as much as I could, but the law mines often meant that for large portions of the week my bride was on her own.  This was especially a challenge with Larry as he always ranked among the boldest of spirits.  One morning my bride took the boys to Renfrew Park a few blocks from our home.  Toddler Larry loved that park.  He loved it so much that during the afternoon he slipped from the house and began a toddler trek to the Park.  My bride was frantic until a policeman returned Larry to our house safe and sound to the vast relief of Mom.

The boys were both late talkers and thus my bride began her relationship with various governmental “helping” agencies, who soon decided that something was wrong with both boys.  Well, they were half right:  Larry it turned out was autistic.  He began to speak about the same time as his brother, but he would always speak with difficulty and with a limited range of words.  I was crushed about this initially, alarmed for Larry’s future.  My bride’s optimism never faltered.  She, from their earliest days, began to teach the boys in “Mommy School”, tailoring Larry’s lessons to his abilities.  She continued to do this after our kids began to attend public school, with Mommy School ending with High School.  I largely attribute the academic success of our two other children to my brides’ patient instruction of them as they grew.

Our boys were joined by our baby girl three and a half years after their birth.  Tending the boys while pregnant was often a challenge to my bride, especially on one interesting, that would be the word, day when I came home and was advised that the boys had displayed their artistic skill, by painting on the white walls of their room in poop.  Life was rarely dull for my bride as our kids were growing!  With the advent of our daughter my bride had an inquisitive, and talkative, mini-her, who for the first years of her life often would say what her Mom had said just a few minutes  before, as if the words were thought up by her.  Donnie quickly reacted to this little prodigy by learning a new phrase, “I scared of sister.”

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6 Responses to My Bride and Mother’s Day

  • What a beautiful tribute to your wife. God bless you both!

  • Truly a Proverbs 31 wife you have, Mr. McClarey.

  • Larry taught me: “First it is bread. Now, it is Jesus.” Simple, beautiful and true.

  • It is apparent that you make a beautiful couple and wonderful parents. Happy Mother’s Day to the Mrs. And… Happy Father’s Day, in advance, to the Mr. May God continue to richly bless you all.

  • What a beautiful tribute to your wife. May God bless you both!

  • There are no coincidences. I was standing glum and feeling sorry for myself, when all of a sudden someone came up behind ,me and touched me. There crouching down a bit was a lady friend of mind with a newspaper his her hand. Were at a base in Labrador, and she had gone on a trip with friends to civilization, and brought back a New York Dailey News with Comics. I had read it weekly growing up in an East Texas oil town. When she left she asked if I needed anything and I asked her to bring a NY paper. I was expecting g the Times, not this tabloid. I saw her looking slightly crosseyed at me, and I was immediately overwhelmed with two feelings: that she looked so cute at that moment, and that by this little gift showed that she cared. I deeply needed that at that moment, and God provided. It was a sign. That was fifty years ago and we are still man and wife, with four children. One is mentally challenged and she live with us, an adult child who nonetheless who amazes us sometimes with her special gifts, including a sharp memory. At out age that alone is a gift. God knows out hearts, and helps us see what our eyes cannot always see and hear what our ears often are draft to. Praise by his name.

My Bride and Mothers Day

Sunday, May 8, AD 2016

Cathy-in-the-1980s-234x300

Her children rose up, and called her blessed: her husband, and he praised her.

Proverbs 31:28

 

 

My mother loved my bride from their first meeting.  They enjoyed shopping together, and my bride was the daughter she never had. My mother died on Easter Sunday 1984.  She never saw, in this life, her grandchildren.  My bride and I were married for eight years before our twin boys appeared.  We were afraid we were never going to have children.  When they were born, I was 34 and my bride was 33.  After we brought the boys home, my initial thought was:  “What’s next”?  After being married for such a long time as a childless couple, I was concerned that perhaps parenthood would prove a challenge we were ill-prepared to meet.  Fortunately my bride, from the outset, proved herself a superb mother.

Changing endless diapers and making endless bottles of formula she did like a pro, as if her entire life had been preparation for these tasks.  When the toddler stage entered, she was constantly on the go, chasing after two inquisitive little boys who could cover a great deal of distance in a small amount of time.  I helped as much as I could, but the law mines often meant that for large portions of the week my bride was on her own.  This was especially a challenge with Larry as he always ranked among the boldest of spirits.  One morning my bride took the boys to Renfrew Park a few blocks from our home.  Toddler Larry loved that park.  He loved it so much that during the afternoon he slipped from the house and began a toddler trek to the Park.  My bride was frantic until a policeman returned Larry to our house safe and sound to the vast relief of Mom.

The boys were both late talkers and thus my bride began her relationship with various governmental “helping” agencies, who soon decided that something was wrong with both boys.  Well, they were half right:  Larry it turned out was autistic.  He began to speak about the same time as his brother, but he would always speak with difficulty and with a limited range of words.  I was crushed about this initially, alarmed for Larry’s future.  My bride’s optimism never faltered.  She, from their earliest days, began to teach the boys in “Mommy School”, tailoring Larry’s lessons to his abilities.  She continued to do this after our kids began to attend public school, with Mommy School ending with High School.  I largely attribute the academic success of our two other children to my brides’ patient instruction of them as they grew.

Our boys were joined by our baby girl three and a half years after their birth.  Tending the boys while pregnant was often a challenge to my bride, especially on one interesting, that would be the word, day when I came home and was advised that the boys had displayed their artistic skill, by painting on the white walls of their room in poop.  Life was rarely dull for my bride as our kids were growing!  With the advent of our daughter my bride had an inquisitive, and talkative, mini-her, who for the first years of her life often would say what her Mom had said just a few minutes  before, as if the words were thought up by her.  Donnie quickly reacted to this little prodigy by learning a new phrase, “I scared of sister.”

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6 Responses to My Bride and Mothers Day

  • A wonderful tribute.

  • What a beautiful essay in honor of a magnificent mother.
    My mom had to go it alone with her first child, my older brother, as Dad was off working in Germany. Talk about trial by fire. My older brother wasn’t a pistol so much as a Gatling gun.
    May all mothers be blessed this day, and strengthened by the Mother of us all, Mary Immaculate.

  • Happy mother’s day. <3 <3 <3

  • What bill bannon said, X 10,000.

    When peace rolls in from above it is undeniably a loving God picking us up and holding us close to his heart. An embrace of unequaled force. I recall your post moments after the funeral Mass. You spoke of this peace then. A blessed assurance.
    Larry is with all of us who long for peace.
    Who know that our lives are not our own, and
    that the owner of them loves them more than we could ever imagine.

    Your tribute Don is a reflection of HIS love.

  • Beautifully written.

  • When I stand before God for my particular judgment, I assume that what I did and what I failed to do in regard to my family will be of some consequence. If the assessment goes in my favor, it will be through no merit of mine, but due to the ceaseless work, patience and love of my bride, the mother of our children.”
    The beauty of true marriage! My husband ( such a beautiful word!) my husband is likewise a gift from God’s own Heart. His earnest and true love, the Person that he is through all the stuff and in face of my own iniquities is a source of wonder to me.
    “Husband” – a noun and a verb- thanks be to God

In Memory of Mom

Sunday, May 8, AD 2016

mom donnie & larry

If I were hanged on the highest hill,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

I know whose love would follow me still,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

I know whose tears would come down to me,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,  

I know whose prayers would make me whole,  

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

Rudyard Kipling

 (I post this each Mother’s Day.)

My Mom died on Easter Sunday in 1984, age 48.  Her second bout with breast cancer took her life, she having survived a first round in 1972.  She told me at that time that she asked God to spare her life until her two boys, my brother and I, were settled in life, and so He did.

Mom had fiery red hair and a tempestuous temperament to match.  When she was a child one of her colleagues at school made the mistake of chanting at her “Fox in the bread box, eating all the cheese!”, and Mom clocked her.  Growing up it was a rare day when I didn’t receive at least one slap, which I had always earned, and one hug, which I rarely earned.  Mom always wore her heart on her sleeve and that fact brought excitement to my life while growing up which I greatly enjoyed.

Mom was a talker.  My laconic father said on occasion that Mom did the talking for both of them and I think that was true.  My brother, who had both Mom’s hair and disposition, also liked to talk and so did I.  When the three of us got going it was an interesting melding of three non-stop monologues.

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2 Responses to In Memory of Mom

  • Such blessings… Our mothers.

    This Mother’s day is my first one without my mom. I saved one of her scarfs because the most beautiful scent of her remains there..timeless in a remarkable way.

    She too was Saintly while she was here.

    Even in the nursing home she offered herself up to whomever was in need, caregivers and residents alike.

    In memory of mom I wish all mom’s the most beautiful and glorious day to you. The co-workers of God the Father Almighty.

  • “Mother O’ Mine” popped into my bone head the minute I saw the title.
    .
    I firmly believe our Moms are in Heaven with Our Holy Mother, The Blessed Virgin Mary, telling each other child-rearing stories.

    From the Memorare, “Therefore . . . I fly to you, O virgin of virgins, my Mother.”: And, “To you do I come. Before you I stand sinful and sorrowful.”
    .
    Our Moms are the closest exemplars of God’s unconditional love we will ever have on this Earth.

    Lovely Lady dressed in blue-
    Teach me how to pray!
    God was just your little boy,
    Tell me what to say!

    The eye allergy is kicking in . . .

For My Mother on Mother’s Day

Sunday, May 10, AD 2015

mom donnie & larry

If I were hanged on the highest hill,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

I know whose love would follow me still,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

I know whose tears would come down to me,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,  

I know whose prayers would make me whole,  

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

Rudyard Kipling

 (I posted this last year and I think I will be posting it each Mother’s Day.)

 

My Mom died on Easter Sunday in 1984, age 48.  Her second bout with breast cancer took her life, she having survived a first round in 1972.  She told me at that time that she asked God to spare her life until her two boys, my brother and I, were settled in life, and so He did.

Mom had fiery red hair and a tempestuous temperament to match.  When she was a child one of her colleagues at school made the mistake of chanting at her “Fox in the bread box, eating all the cheese!”, and Mom clocked her.  Growing up it was a rare day when I didn’t receive at least one slap, which I had always earned, and one hug, which I rarely earned.  Mom always wore her heart on her sleeve and that fact brought excitement to my life while growing up which I greatly enjoyed.

Mom was a talker.  My laconic father said on occasion that Mom did the talking for both of them and I think that was true.  My brother, who had both Mom’s hair and disposition, also liked to talk and so did I.  When the three of us got going it was an interesting melding of three non-stop monologues.

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2 Responses to For My Mother on Mother’s Day

  • Beautiful Life and that Life continues on each breath you take, each beating of your heart, your mom lives on and smiles that smile deep inside your soul.
    Wonderful tribute Donald.

    To Mrs. McClarey and All gracious souls that gave us life….Happy Mothers Day, and thank you.

  • Thank you for sharing such a lovely tribute to your Mom (& your Dad!). They sound like wonderful people and helpful saints!

Mom’s Many Gifts to Me

Sunday, May 11, AD 2014

mom donnie & larry

If I were hanged on the highest hill,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

I know whose love would follow me still,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

I know whose tears would come down to me,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,  

I know whose prayers would make me whole,  

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

Rudyard Kipling

 

 

My Mom died on Easter Sunday in 1984, age 48.  Her second bout with breast cancer took her life, she having survived a first round in 1972.  She told me at that time that she asked God to spare her life until her two boys, my brother and I, were settled in life, and so He did.

Mom had fiery red hair and a tempestuous temperament to match.  When she was a child one of her colleagues at school made the mistake of chanting at her “Fox in the bread box, eating all the cheese!”, and Mom clocked her.  Growing up it was a rare day when I didn’t receive at least one slap, which I had always earned, and one hug, which I rarely earned.  Mom always wore her heart on her sleeve and that fact brought excitement to my life while growing up which I greatly enjoyed.

Mom was a talker.  My laconic father said on occasion that Mom did the talking for both of them and I think that was true.  My brother, who had both Mom’s hair and disposition, also liked to talk and so did I.  When the three of us got going it was an interesting melding of three non-stop monologues.

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13 Responses to Mom’s Many Gifts to Me

  • God bless your mother’s soul, Mr. McClarey.

  • God bless your mom and all moms, as God has blessed Our Lady.

  • Thank you Mary and PF. May the souls of all Moms who gave the gifts of life and love here below rest in peace above.

  • Lawrence beckoning Our Lady for a mystical rose. A rose that soothes Mrs. McClarey’s heart on this blessed day.
    As grandma and son smile on from above, The Mother of God gives her okay.

    May this mystical rose bring you both the unfailing love that Is Christ. For with Him all things are possible.

    Your post…your family…truly blessed.

  • Mr. McClarey,

    Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam dilís..in the Irish…may her faithful soul be at the right hand of God.

    You will meet your mom again and she will be 33 forever and her hair blazing red.

  • God bless your mother and mine and my wife Joyce mother of six. There is something about a mother we fathers cannot fully understand but just observe in awe.

  • Bless you Philip. Mother’s Day in 2013 was the last Mass that Larry attended in this life. I have heard it often theorized that people often see their mothers as the first people to greet them as their souls depart their body. If that is true, I am sure that grandma McClarey was quite willing to play that role for Larry.

  • “You will meet your mom again and she will be 33 forever and her hair blazing red.”

    And if she wants to give me a maternal slap slainte for old times’ sake, that would be just fine with me!

  • Mr. McClarey writes, “And if she wants to give me a maternal slap slainte for old times’ sake, that would be just fine with me!”
    .
    Be careful what you ask for…she might figure out a way to do it while you’re still down here. : )
    .
    You’re lucky that your mom disciplined with her hand; my mom used a stick or the belt…and she chased us until she caught us. If God really does replay one’s life when we die, I look forward to viewing those scenes…my mom moved quickly and even my dad ducked for cover. 🙂

  • Don,

    Thank you for this moving tribute to your mother. Our family will keep yours in our prayers. Although we don’t know each other personally, I’ve been reading your blog for so long now that I feel a connection to your personal stories. I think of Larry often as well.

  • Thank you j.Christian, the prayers are greatly appreciated. I have been fortunate to have some unique individuals in my life, and Larry and my Mom both had a vast impact on me.

  • My mother died of cancer on 4 May 1974, aged 54, just before my 23rd birthday. She died at home, surrounded by her family. It was harrowing, but after getting up from my knees after reciting the De Profundis at her deathbed I was conscious of the following.
    1. I had grown up. The only person who knew me before I was born was gone.
    2. With death, the disease which ravaged the body disappeared. For a short time I saw her as I had always remembered her.
    3. Death is not so terrible after all. Even in articulo mortis, when she appeared to not respond to any exterior stimulus, she was mumbling to herself, over and over again, the familiar prayers learnt in her childhood; the same prayers she had taught me.

    In life as in death she was an example of a genuinely devout (without being pietistic) Catholic. As young teacher in a Catholic school in the 1940s she took exception to the young Irish curate who walked into her class (as they were wont to do in those days) and tried to undermine her authority. She told him she was not prepared to be corrected on matters of doctrine by someone who had just come off the Liverpool boat. ‘My ancestors were kings in Ireland!’ he asserted. Drawing herself up to her full height of 5ft 2in she retorted ‘And I am descended from Guthrum the Dane!’. The wind now taken out of his sails, he said ‘Is that a fact, now?’, walked out, and treated her with respect afterwards.

    I owe her so much, and forty years on still miss her.

  • “Drawing herself up to her full height of 5ft 2in she retorted ‘And I am descended from Guthrum the Dane!’.”

    Fortunate the man who has such a mother John!

Saint Augustine: To the Mother of God

Sunday, May 12, AD 2013

 

O blessed Virgin Mary, who can worthily repay thee thy just dues of praise and thanksgiving, thou who by the wondrous assent of thy will didst rescue a fallen world?  What songs of praise can our weak human nature recite in thy honor, since it is by thy intervention alone that it has found the way to restoration.  Accept, then, such poor thanks as we have here to offer, though they be unequal to thy merits; and receiving our vows, obtain by thy prayers the remission of our offenses.  Carry thou our prayers within the sanctuary of the heavenly audience, and bring forth from it the antidote of our reconciliation.  May the sins we bring before Almighty God through thee, become pardonable through thee; may what we ask for with sure confidence, through thee be granted.  Take our offering, grant us our requests, obtain pardon for what we fear, for thou art the sole hope of sinners.  Through thee we hope for the remission of our sins, and in thee, O blessed Lady, is our hope of reward.  Holy Mary, succour the miserable, help the fainthearted, comfort the sorrowful, pray for thy people, plead for the clergy, intercede for all women consecrated to God; may all who keep thy holy commemoration feel now thy help and protection.  Be thou ever ready to assist us when we pray, and bring back to us the answers to our prayers.  Make it thy continual care to pray for the people of God, thou who, blessed by God, didst merit to bear the Redeemer of the world, who liveth and reigneth, world without end.  Amen.

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6 Responses to Saint Augustine: To the Mother of God

Ann Marie Jarvis, West Virginia and Mother’s Day

Sunday, May 12, AD 2013

Today is Mother’s Day in the US, a time when we honor those women who go through the pains of pregnancy to bring us all into this life.  It all began with a feisty West Virginia mom, Ann Marie Jarvis.  Born in 1832, Ann Marie Reeves was the daughter of a Methodist minister who in 1843 was transferred to Phillipi in what would become West Virginia.  In 1850 she married Granville Jarvis, the son of a Baptist minister.  Together they would have eleven children, although tragically only four lived to adulthood, a not uncommon occurrence in those days when modern medicine was in its infancy.

A born reformer, in 1858 Ann Marie Jarvis founded in Western Virginia, Mothers Work Clubs that worked to improve sanitation, health and to care for indigent families.  During the Civil War she proclaimed the neutrality of her clubs, and they aided Union and Confederate soldiers alike, providing nurses to them during outbreaks of camp diseases like typhoid fever and measles, the great killer of soldiers during the War.

After the war she helped organize Mother’s Friendship Day in West Virginia to help heal the divisions of the War.  During the celebrations Union and Confederate veterans would participate and the bands would play both The Star Spangled Banner and Dixie.

This remarkable woman continued her good works throughout her life and died in 1905.  She often expressed a desire for a  day to honor all mothers.  After her death her daughter carried out her wishes by celebrating the first Mother’s Day in Grafton, West Virginia in 1907.  She headed a national campaign that culminated in President Wilson declaring Mother’s Day a national holiday in 1914.

The daughter of Ann Marie Jarvis,  Anna Marie Jarvis, grew to regret the commercialization of Mother’s Day.  She despised the habit of buying greeting cards for mothers as being a sign of people being too lazy to write a letter to their mothers.

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One Response to Ann Marie Jarvis, West Virginia and Mother’s Day

  • In the UK, we have Mothering Sunday, now often referred to as Mother’s Day

    It is kept on Laetare Sunday. The traditional epistle for that day is from Galatians 4, “Which things are said by an allegory. For these are the two testaments. The one from mount Sinai, engendering unto bondage; which is Agar: For Sinai is a mountain in Arabia, which hath affinity to that Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage with her children. But that Jerusalem, which is above, is free: which is our mother.”

    Early spring flowers are not to be relied on, so I remember potting a hyacinth and keeping it in the tack cupboard; achieving peak condition on the day was awfully rewarding.

Mother O’ Mine

Sunday, May 12, AD 2013

Mother Love

 

If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
    I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

    If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

    If I were damned of body and soul,
    I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

Rudyard Kipling

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One Response to Mother O’ Mine

  • Amen!

    From “Epitaphs of the War 1914 – 1918”

    AN ONLY SON

    I have slain none except my Mother.
    She (Blessing her slayer) died of grief for me.

    Our soldier son called from Japan. He changed his facebook profile pic to one of his Mother and himself taken on the sunny day he graduated Ranger School.

    He also posted a video of his brigade’s return from Afghanistan saying that that is what Mother’s Day means to him.

    “They also serve who only stand and wait.”

Happy Birthday Bella!

Sunday, May 13, AD 2012

 

 

Elizabeth Santorum at Hot Air reminds us that the Santorum household has a double reason to celebrate today:

Sunday is an important day in the Santorum house. On May 13th, we’ll be celebrating a birthday. My little sister, Bella, is turning four. As some of you can imagine, having seven kids in my family, we do a lot of birthday parties. Various sweets, party hats, and re-used gift bags are always floating around the house, waiting to be used in the next celebration. Our house is a happy one, full of life. That being said, Bella’s birthday is always uniquely joyful and the cause of grateful reflection. I say this because every year with Bella is a gift. Bella was born with a rare genetic condition called Trisomy 18. Of the 10% of babies with Trisomy 18 who survive birth, 90% won’t make it to their first birthday. When she was born, the prognosis was bleak. The odds were simply stacked against her.

 

Ten days after she was born, Bella came home from the hospital. As doctors explained to us how to best prepare for her death, we chose to celebrate her life. And we did, every, single day. I remember when we first brought Bella home; we hung a sign in our living room. It read, “Happy 1-Week Birthday Bella.” As the weeks went by, we changed the sign from 1 to 2 to 3 weeks. Eventually weeks turned into months and now, thanks be to God, years. We fought for her each step of the way, giving her every opportunity to do well. She beat the odds and has been doing so ever since.

 

As I reflect on this last year of her life, it has been amazing to see how many people Bella has touched and the issues that have been discussed in the public sphere as a result of her condition. In the middle of winter, when the world found out that Bella had been hospitalized, the response was overwhelming. Our inboxes and mailboxes were flooded with notes of encouragement, prayer, and support. People in all walks of life from around the country united around the witness of a three-year-old little girl. We even got notes that said, “I don’t agree with you politically, but thank you for being a voice for the special needs community.” She brought unity and refocused us on what was really important in the midst of a heated primary season.

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4 Responses to Happy Birthday Bella!

  • Naturally Bella was born on the feast of Our Lady of Fatima! She is such an inspiration to our family who have been blessed with our daughter Christina, age 10 who has Down syndrome. Rick was kind enough to allow me to use his essay written on the occasion of Bella’s second birthday, “Two Years Worth Every Tear” in my book, “A Special Mother is Born” a collection of 34 stories from Catholic parents of special needs children.

  • because God wants unconditional love

  • Mary, God does not want unconditional love because the only way you can love him is by loving him above all things because he is all good, all powerful, and all knowing and he is our Creator so any true love for God is both required by us but also completely righteous.

  • I believe that people who are retarded are saints because of their goodwill despite the hard time they have figuring out what is going on.

Mother O’ Mine

Sunday, May 13, AD 2012

If I were hanged on the highest hill,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

I know whose love would follow me still,

   Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

I know whose tears would come down to me,

Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,  

 I know whose prayers would make me whole,

   Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

Rudyard Kipling

 

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One Response to Mother O’ Mine

Mother of Mine

Sunday, May 8, AD 2011

If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

Rudyard Kipling

To all mothers among our commenters, contributors and readership, the happiest of Mother’s Days! 


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3 Responses to Mother of Mine